All That Remains
by dnachemlia
Summary: Scott never expected to lose his best friend in such an ordinary way, but when are things ever ordinary in Beacon Hills? AU after the first couple of episodes of 3B.
1. Chapter 1

**All That Remains**

Genre: Gen. Friendship/Supernatural/AU

Starts after the first couple of episodes of 3B, AU from there.

Pairings: None.

Warnings: Character death.

Summary: Scott never expected to lose his best friend in such an ordinary way, but when are things ever ordinary in Beacon Hills?

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

First time writing in this fandom. Would love to know what you think.

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Chapter 1

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"_

The priest's words were still ringing in Scott McCall's ears as the first fat drops of rain spattered against the coffin being lowered slowly into the earth. The rest of the gathered mourners had headed for their cars after the first grumble of thunder had rolled through, but Scott stayed, hands jammed into the pockets of his only black suit, staring at the simple casket that held the body of his best friend.

It seemed unbelievable that only a few days ago Stiles had been planning their annual Halloween pranks, laughing as he described how this year would be the best yet.

That prank had never been pulled.

Scott winced as he though back to that fateful afternoon. He had wanted to try and get to know the new girl, Kira, and decided to stay a bit longer after school, hoping to catch her alone. Scott had told Stiles he would meet him later, and Stiles, after making one of his usual sarcastic comments, had driven off in the direction of his house. He never made it to his destination.

Scott would never forget the sound of Lydia's scream that had echoed through the halls of the high school, bringing those few still within earshot (and one from even further away) running. He had found her outside the coach's office, sobbing, with Aiden trying unsuccessfully to comfort her.

"_Who?"_ he had asked, and one look into her eyes sent a chill down his spine. She managed to gasp out _'I'm sorry'_ before Scott had run for the exit, nearly colliding with Derek on the way out.

"_Who is it?"_

Scott had just pushed past Derek, jumped on his bike and gunned it. A few miles down the road he found two sets of skid marks, one set of which veered off the edge of the road and down into a deep ravine. The coppery stench of blood told him it was bad, but he hadn't been prepared for what he had found at the bottom. Derek had arrived just as he was desperately trying to pull Stiles' body from the wreckage and had dragged Scott away, telling him in an oddly choked voice that it was too late, that Stiles' heart was no longer beating.

"Scott?"

He turned to find his mother standing next to him, an umbrella poised over them both.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She cupped a gentle hand to his cheek. "It's time to go. You're getting soaked."

Scott turned away and looked back down at the coffin, now resting at the bottom of the grave. "I can't believe he's…This should never have happened. If I had just gone with him…"

She turned his head and forced him to look into her eyes. "This was not your fault, Scott. The only one who deserves blame is the drunk that caused the accident. There was nothing you could have done."

"But if I had been there, I could have done something. I could have…I could have saved him."

Melissa sighed. "Scott, you know what the doctors said. Stiles was…he died instantly on impact. Even if you had been in that jeep with him…there was nothing you could have done…and I might have lost you, too."

"I'm sorry."

She drew him into a hug, holding him tightly as he let out his grief.

"It's OK, honey. It's going to be OK."

"I miss him, Mom," Scott mumbled against her shoulder.

"I know…I know you do. We all do. Stiles was…he was one of a kind."

Finally he released her and she reached up to wipe away a stray tear. "You ready to go?"

He took one final look at Stiles' grave and nodded. Melissa put an arm around his shoulder and they headed for the car. Isaac and Derek were waiting at the edge of the parking lot for them, along with Allison and Lydia. Allison's face was tear-stained, while Lydia looked paler than Scott had ever seen her.

"You OK?" Isaac asked, and Scott gave a brief nod before turning to the girls.

"Are you going to be alright?" He directed the question to Lydia, but his gaze lingered on Allison for a few moments as he waited for her answer.

"I don't know," Lydia replied. "I…" Her lower lip started to tremble. "What's the point of…being able to do what I can do, if I can't…If I can't _help_? If I can't stop it from happening?"

"There has to be some point to it," Allison tried to reassure her, but Lydia just bit her lip and turned away, her shoulders shaking as she hurried towards her car. Allison quickly followed, glancing back at Scott before she caught up with Lydia and put an arm around her shoulder.

"You should probably go with them," Scott told Isaac, who looked rather surprised at the command.

"You don't want to…?"

"I kind of want to be alone right now."

"Understood. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Isaac dashed off after the girls and Derek cleared his throat, drawing Scott's attention.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Scott. Stiles was…he was a good friend."

"Yeah, he was. The best."

Derek looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he turned and headed for his own car. Scott and Melissa started off in the opposite direction but Scott stopped when he caught sight of Stiles' dad. The sheriff was sitting in his car, unmoving.

"Sheriff?" Scott asked as he approached. "Are you OK?"

The sheriff let out a humorless chuckle. "No. No, I'm not."

"Do you need someone to stay with you for awhile?" Melissa asked, and he shook his head.

"I don't think so. I wouldn't be very good company."

Melissa reached through the open window of his car and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am _so_ sorry for your loss."

The sheriff gave her a weak smile. "Thank you." He turned to Scott. "Thank you for being his friend."

Scott's voice caught in his throat and he barely managed to nod in reply.

"If you need anything…" Melissa began and he shook his head again.

"I don't think anyone can give me what I need right now, but thank you." He opened the door and stepped out. "Excuse me." He started walking back towards the gravesite.

Scott turned to his mother. "Should we…?"

"No. Not right now. Come on, let's go home."

The ride back to their house was silent. Once inside, Scott went up to his room to change and then flopped down on his bed, trying to keep the memories of the past few days at bay. He pulled out his phone, tempted to listen to Stiles' last message, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He glanced over as his computer, almost expecting a chat request from Stiles to pop up, but the computer remained silent. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

Soon the memories washed over him, unbidden: the first time he and Stiles had met…their first outing together…their many attempts to dodge the wrath of elementary and middle school bullies…the pranks they had played on each other and their unsuspecting classmates, and eventually teachers…practicing lacrosse and hoping to make first line…and the insanity that had overtaken their lives after the fateful night when Scott had been bitten, and everything that had happened since.

The ache in Scott's chest that had been present ever since he's heard Lydia's banshee cry became almost unbearable. He couldn't imagine how life would be now without his friend to be there for him, to keep him (mostly) out of trouble, and to be the voice of reason in his often crazy existence. Stiles had been his brother in everything but blood, and now Scott felt like a part of himself had been ripped away.

A soft knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his dark thoughts and he opened his eyes to see his mother open the door enough to poke her head in.

"Dinner's ready."

"Not hungry.'

Melissa opened the door all the way and stepped into his room then walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. She watched him for a few moments with a sad, sympathetic expression on her face, waiting for him to speak.

"I always had this idea that he'd always be there, you know?" He began. "I took him for granted. He stuck by me, through…everything. I don't know what I'm going to do without him, Mom."

"You'll survive, and succeed, and honor him…every day. Just by doing what you know is right. I think that's what he would have wanted for you."

"Maybe…"

She patted his knee. "No, not maybe. He would. Now come on. You need to eat something."

"In a while, OK?"

"Alright."

She left, quietly closing the door behind her, and he heard her go back downstairs. Scott settled back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and going over his mother's words in his head. He _would_ honor his friend. He owed Stiles that much.

The doorbell rang and he sat up, checked the clock and wondered who would be dropping by this time of night. He heard his mother open the front door and suddenly the relative quiet of the house was shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

Scott was out the door in a flash, his feet barely touching the floor as he dashed down the stairs. He saw his mother lying in a motionless heap in front of the open door and a wet, mud-covered figure crouching next to her, its hand on her neck.

"Get away from her!"

The figure spun around, sputtering.

"I-I don't know what happened! I just…she just screamed and then she was on the ground! I'm sorry!"

Scott stared in shock at the impossibly familiar face in front of him.

"_Stiles?"_

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

All That Remains

Chapter 2

"Stiles?"

Scott felt as if the floor beneath had opened up and he was hanging in space, ready for the threads of reality to pull him back or to break, sending him into the abyss. He barely managed to voice the next thought that ran through his mind.

"What…what are you…doing here?"

Stiles, or the apparition that looked like Stiles, ran his hand through his soaking mop of hair. "I have no idea, man, but I think I was sleepwalking, or something. I woke up in the _freakin' _cemetery and…your house was closer, and... I didn't want my dad to worry…"

Finally Scott's paralysis broke and he reached out and grabbed Stiles' arm, his heart skipping a few beats when he felt the solid flesh beneath his fingers. Stiles was not very warm, but Scott could feel, he could _hear_, the beat of his heart, something he had thought he'd never hear again.

Puzzlement, then worry crossed Stiles' face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Before Scott could answer, a soft moan drew his attention to the crumpled form on the floor. He released Stiles and quickly crouched down next to his mother.

"Mom?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, confusion quickly giving way to fear as she sat up and stared at Stiles.

"I'm sorry, Melissa. I didn't mean to scare you."

"What…?"

"It's OK, Mom. Stiles thinks he might have been sleepwalking. He says he woke up in the cemetery," Scott rushed to add, hoping his mother would catch on quickly. After a few moments of shocked silence she turned to meet his gaze and nodded. He helped her to her feet and she immediately reached out and touched Stiles' face, her eyes widening in wonder before 'concerned Mom' took over.

"You're freezing…and filthy."

"Yeah, sorry about the mess. It was raining when I woke up but stopped pretty soon after I started walking." He looked down at his bare feet. "Maybe I should start sleeping with my shoes on."

She let out a weak laugh and patted his face. "Maybe. Right now I think you need a hot shower and a change of clothes. I'm sure Scott can find something that will fit you."

Scott nodded and a relieved look crossed Stiles' face, followed by a sarcastic smirk. "Dude, I'm _not_ wearing your underwear."

Scott barely managed a smile of his own. "I think I got it covered. Come on." He waved towards the stairs and Stiles started to head up. Scott turned and glanced at his mother, sending another silent request.

"I'll call Deaton," she whispered, once Stiles was out of earshot. "Anyone else?"

"Not yet. Thanks."

"And to think I used to worry about…normal teenager stuff," she commented with a soft chuckle as she headed for the kitchen. Scott hurried to catch up with Stiles and followed him to his own room. He quickly found a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt for Stiles, as well as an unopened pack of briefs his mother had bought him months ago and he had ignored. Stiles gave him a thankful nod and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Scott sat down on his bed and took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly as he tried to calm the racing of his heart. It seemed like a thousand questions were galloping through his mind, but he didn't have a clue how to answer any of them. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't bear to lose his friend again.

Finally Stiles emerged from the bathroom, his still damp hair sticking up in all directions, giving him a decidedly comical look.

"Man, I even had dirt in my _ears_. What do you think I was doing? Mudwrestling?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"No idea," Scott replied. "How do you feel?"

"Better. A lot better, actually, like…all the weirdness we've been dealing with for the past few weeks? It's just gone."

"That's…good to hear."

"Guess it's time to call my dad, huh? He's not going to be happy that I've started sleepwalking again."

"You did before?"

"Yeah, after my mom died. I outgrew it…or so I thought."

"We'll figure it out. Come on." They went downstairs to the kitchen where Melissa was waiting.

"Feel better?"

"Much. Thanks."

"Are you hungry?"

Stiles grinned. "Starving."

"Well we can fix that." She dished out some of the spaghetti she had re-heated in the microwave and set it in front of Stiles, who started to wolf it down.

"Hey, slow down, don't make yourself sick," she automatically began and then froze, glancing at Scott, the uncertainty clear in her expression.

Stiles didn't seem to notice the exchange but did stop eating for a moment. "Sorry. Feels like I haven't eaten in a week."

"No, it's OK." Melissa poured him a glass of water which he quickly drained before he resumed eating. Scott was so focused on watching his friend that he didn't register the front door opening, and a startled gasp was the first indication he had that someone else had entered the kitchen. He turned to find Isaac staring at Stiles in horror a split second before the beta's eyes turned yellow and he lunged at Stiles, teeth bared.

Scott caught Isaac before he could reach Stiles and threw him across the room, subduing the other werewolf with a roar. Scott heard Stiles whisper "holy crap" just before he crossed the room, grabbed Isaac, and dragged him out of the kitchen and across the living room to the front door.

"What in the hell?" Isaac yelped and Scott made motions for him to keep his voice down. "He's supposed to be—" 

"Yeah, and now he's not." Scott gave Isaac a shove. "And what the hell was that? Why were you trying to attack him?"

Isaac snorted. "Seriously? He came back from the _dead_. Last one I know who did that was Peter Hale, and we _still_ don't know if we can trust him."

"Stiles isn't Peter."

"Look, I know he was your friend, but—"

"He still _is_ my friend. That's not going to change."

"But—"

"Deaton's on his way over. He'll figure it out. But until then we're not telling Stiles."

"He doesn't know?"

"He thinks he was sleepwalking and woke up in the cemetery."

"Holy crap…"

"Yeah."

"Have you told his father?"

"Not yet."

Isaac's eye widened. "So you're _not_ sure he's really OK."

"I'm sure. I just didn't know how to tell the Sheriff."

"Probably should let Deaton handle that, too."

"Yeah, probably. Come on." Isaac followed Scott back to the kitchen where Stiles was sitting silently, his dinner forgotten.

"You want to tell me what in the hell is going on?"

"Nothing. Just a misunderstanding." Scott turned to glare at Isaac, who nodded.

"A _misunderstanding_? Isaac wolfs-out on me, and you all have been looking at me weird, like…I don't know, but when I first got here you," he nodded at Melissa, "and your mom looked like you were seeing a ghost."

"Close," muttered Isaac and Scott elbowed his ribs, causing him to wince.

"Dude, seriously, what has you all so freaked out?" They all turned their gazes away and Stiles smacked his hand on the table. "Please, just tell me!"

"You died." Isaac ignored the twin glares the McCalls gave him. "Four days ago."

Stiles just stared at him for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, right." He glanced at Melissa and his smile faded when he took in her expression. "He's kidding, right?" He turned to Scott. "Right?"

"Stiles, I…I'm sorry, man…"

"But…how?"

"Car accident. A drunk driver ran you off the road."

"_Isaac!"_

"He asked."

"S-seriously?" Stiles stammered. "You mean…all the weird, supernatural, _dangerous _crap we've being dealing with…and I get taken out by a freaking _drunk driver_?"

Scott nodded. Stiles glanced at the others for conformation before returning his attention to Scott.

"Are you sure? I mean, maybe it was someone who just really looked like me, and—"

"It was you, and I know because I found you…after it happened."

A look of horror crossed Stiles' face. "Oh, man…"

"Yeah. It was pretty bad."

"Closed casket," Isaac added, earning him another glare from Scott. Before Stiles could respond the doorbell rang. "I'll get that," Isaac offered and disappeared into the living room.

Stiles slowly raised his hands and looked at them, turning them and counting softly under his breath.

"…ten…I'm not dreaming…I was really dead?" Scott nodded again. "But now I'm not… How…?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Deaton replied as he walked into the kitchen, his black bag in one hand. He set the bag on the table and studied Stiles with a mildly quizzical expression. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up in the cemetery?"

"Uh…I remember leaving school…Scott said he'd catch up with me later, and we…we had plans for later. I remember heading home…and that's it. Everything else is a blank."

"You don't remember the accident?" Scott asked, and Stiles shook his head.

"That's probably a good thing, right?"

Deaton opened his bag and pulled out a bottle of black power. "Hold out your hand." Stiles complied and Deaton poured some of the powder onto Stiles' palm. Nothing happened.

"Hmm…"

"Is that mountain ash?" Stiles asked in a shaky voice.

Deaton nodded, then held the bottle out, indicating that Stiles should pour the ash on his hand back into the bottle. He pulled out another bottle containing an off-white powder. He poured some of it onto Stiles palm, and again nothing happened. Stiles poured it back into the jar.

"What was that?"

"Mistletoe."

Deaton repeated the process several more times, each with a different powdered substance. The last bottle contained a clear liquid, which also had no effect. Finally he pulled out a long-bladed knife, the sight of which caused Stiles to pull back, wide-eyed.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to cut you, I promise. Hold out your hand."

Reluctantly, Stiles did, and scrunched up his face in anticipation of pain, but all Deaton did was lay the blade against his palm. Nothing happened.

"Interesting."

"So what am I?" Stiles asked, fear plain in his expression.

"Human," Deaton replied. "I can't find any evidence of supernatural interference."

"So he's not a zombie?" Isaac asked, and Stiles sent him an annoyed glare.

"Don't worry, I have no desire to eat your brain. Of course, you'd have to actually _have_ one."

Isaac shot Stiles a dirty look and Deaton chuckled. "No, he's not a zombie. From what I can tell he's completely normal. I just don't know how he came back as he is. Or why."

"Great," Stiles muttered. "I've stumped Yoda."

"So you've never seen anything like this before?" Melissa asked.

"No. Usually when someone rises from the dead, they've been brought back through dark magic—"

"Wait, like necromancy?" Stiles asked, his eyes wide.

"Something like that, although necromancers will bring a dead soul back for a specific purpose, usually to gain information or tell the future."

"But I don't know anything important…or anything about the future…at least not that I know of."

"I don't think necromancy is what occurred here, since that leaves a mark. Some sort of magic has to be involved, but as for the true purpose…I'm sorry to say we might have to wait and see."

"But, why me? I'm…nobody."

"That's not true," Scott interjected. "You're important to a lot of people." He put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "You're important to me."

Stiles sent Scott a grateful look. "Thanks, man."

"Does this have something to do with the, uh, door we opened? When we temporarily died before?"

"Possible. I'm going to have to do some research. In the mean time, it might be a good idea to lay low."

"What about my dad? He must be…pretty messed up after what happened to me."

"Right now he's out at the cemetery. I stopped by before I came here, and someone had discovered that your grave had been disturbed. They called the police."

"My…wait, are you saying I dug myself out of my own _grave_?"

"I don't think so. Your hands certainly don't look like you did. Something else had to have brought you out."

"Oh, good, because that's just a little _too_ creepy," Stiles remarked with his usual sarcasm, but Scott could see that underneath the snarky façade, his friend was truly terrified.

Deaton glanced at Scott and nodded slightly, showing that he, too had noticed Stiles' distress. "I'll go talk to your father, and bring him here."

"Thanks."

The vet smiled and left, while the remaining group sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally Isaac spoke.

"Should we tell the girls? Or do you think Lydia might already know?"

"I guess you better call and check. If she doesn't…well, she could probably help us in figuring this out. Allison, too."

"Yeah, probably." Isaac excused himself to go make the call and Melissa put her hand on Stiles' other shoulder.

"Are you OK? Do you need anything?"

"Just to wake up, and find out that this whole thing was some bizarre nightmare."

She gave him a hug and then gently patted his face. "I think we all feel like that at this point." She glanced at Scott and dipped her head to acknowledge the silent request for privacy before leaving as well. Scott sat down next to Stiles and waited for his friend to tell him what was really bothering him.

"Am I going to have to go back?"

"Back where?"

"To being dead. After whatever it is that I was brought back for is finished. Will I die again?"

"No. That's not going to happen. I won't let anything happen to you this time. I promise."

"'This time'?"

"When you…when the accident happened, I should have been there. You wanted me to go with you to your house, and I…"

"Wanted to talk to Kira. I remember."

"I'm sorry."

Stiles let out a weak laugh. "I'm pretty sure what happened to me wasn't your fault… Speaking of which, did they catch the guy that…killed me?"

"He, uh, ran into a tree…about a mile down the road from where we found you. He died before they could get to him."

"Oh. Who was it?"

"Nobody we know. Just some guy who lost his job, decided to get drunk, and then…"

"Yeah. Bad luck, huh?"

"Something like that."

"So…was my funeral nice?"

"Stiles…"

"What? I think I deserve to know that." A shadow of a familiar grin crossed Stiles' face and Scott laughed weakly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. Lots of people there…the whole lacrosse team, even the Coach. All our friends…" Scott sighed. "And it was the worst day of my life."

"I'm sorry, man."

Scott didn't respond for a few moments, but finally he was able to speak.

"Do you remember when we were stuck in that haunted hotel? Where I almost set myself on fire?"

"Kind of hard to forget."

"You talked me out of it, said I'd have to take you with me. Saved my ass." Stiles nodded. "You also said that I'm your brother. You know I feel the same way, right? You're _my_ brother, too. In every way that counts."

"Thanks, bro." Stiles patted his back, and Scott pulled him in for a hug.

"I don't ever want to feel like that again."

"Me either."

Scott heard his mother walk in the kitchen and he released Stiles before turning to her. She was holding Stiles' muddy clothing in one hand.

"Oh, sorry, I was going to find something to put those in, but…"

"It's OK. I can deal with a little mud. I brought them down because I thought there might be…evidence of what happened on them."

"Good thinking, Mom." Scott jumped up to retrieve a bag, while Stiles continued to stare at the mud-encrusted material.

"Even if there isn't anything on them, I really don't think I'd want to wear those again. Especially since I…you know, was buried in them."

"Completely understandable."

Melissa started to put the clothes in the bag Scott gave her and paused when Isaac returned.

"Long call," Stiles remarked, and Isaac shrugged.

"_Weird_ call. Lydia's still asleep, but Allison said she didn't mention Stiles' Lazarus act. Allison thinks she should wait until Lydia wakes up to tell her about it, but in the meantime she'll see what she can find."

"I guess we should try, too."

"Tomorrow. You should get some rest."

Stiles let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Apparently I've been _resting_ for a few days. I don't think I could sleep right now if I tried." He glanced at Scott. "Sorry."

"It's OK. We're all a little wired right now."

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door, and they all jumped. Isaac recovered first and gave Melissa a sheepish grin before he went to answer the door. A few moments later they heard the door open, followed by Isaac's startled voice.

"_Derek? What are you doing here?"_

TBC…


End file.
